


never let go

by Teaotter



Series: Anything You Want [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Breathplay, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, promptfest vi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter pauses in the hall outside the room to take a deep breath. He considers knocking; what’s the protocol for hotel hook-ups these days? But he never knocked on Neal’s door before, so he slides the card through the reader and steps inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Written for Elrhiarhodan's Summer Madness Promptfest VI.

As Peter walks through the lobby of the posh hotel Neal chose for their assignation, he can’t help imagining that he looks as out of place as he feels. The elevators are busy this time of evening with well-dressed people checking in, and even better-dressed people going out to dinner. Peter is still in the same basic suit he wore to the office this morning, wrinkled and damp from the stress of the day. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his coat where no one can see them shake.

Neal’s room is on the twentieth floor, and Peter endures the slow ride up in the mirrored elevator. He can see his own reflection staring back at him. He has dark circles under his eyes; he’s been too worried to sleep well for weeks. Not that worrying did him a bit of good.

Peter pauses in the hall outside the room to take a deep breath. He considers knocking; what’s the protocol for hotel hook-ups these days? But he never knocked on Neal’s door before, so he slides the card through the reader and steps inside.

The lights are off, shadows thick as if the room is empty. For a moment, Peter’s afraid that it is. He sweeps his gaze through the room with the light from the hall. It’s a suite – of course it’s a suite, it’s Neal – expensive minimalist furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking midtown. Neal, staring out the windows in the dark. Peter lets the heavy hotel door fall shut behind him, and the other man turns.

“Peter.” Neal’s voice is quiet. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Neal doesn’t move. Neither does Peter. The width of the room stretches between them, and it may as well be miles. “I couldn’t say no.”

Peter’s eyes have adjusted enough to see the flash of Neal’s smile, the charming one he uses when he’s angry. “But you have before. In fact, it’s all I’ve heard from you lately.”

Peter takes a careful step into the room. “I’m here now.”

“Yes, you are.” Neal ducks his head and laughs softly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to give in so easily.”

“You think this is easy?” Peter’s voice cracks, and he winces.

“No. I know it’s not.” And Neal is just there, pressing him back against the wall before Peter even sees him move. “Peter. You know I didn’t want it this way.”

It’s the pain in Neal’s voice that pushes Peter across the last few inches between them, finally, leaning in to kiss the other man helplessly. And then they’re right back to that night, the balcony at June’s, when everything fell apart. Neal’s hands are everywhere, and Peter can’t stop pushing into them, desperate for the contact. “God, Neal.”

Peter’s coat falls to the floor with his suit jacket. He’s working on the buttons on Neal’s shirt when Neal catches his hands and presses them into the wall. Neal runs his thumb along the crease where Peter’s fingers meet the palm, lingering tellingly on the wedding band.

It isn’t a question, but Peter answers anyway. “I called El from the airport.”

Neal releases Peter’s wrists abruptly to work the buttons of Peter’s shirt. “Is she angry?”

Peter lets his hands drop to Neal’s hips. “She’s – hurt.”

“I’m glad.” Neal looks up at him, the shadows making his eyes unreadable. “I won’t give you up.”

Peter reaches under Neal’s shirt, digging his fingers into the other man’s back. “She gave me permission.”

“That’s very kind of her,” Neal snarls. “Candlelight dinners are out, but anonymous hotels are just fine. Is that what the rules are?” He reaches the end of the line of buttons and doesn’t even pause before he’s undoing Peter’s belt. “Do I get to use your real name?”

Peter sucks in a breath as Neal’s hand wraps around his cock. He wants this, even if he doesn’t know what to do with Neal’s anger. “Do I get to use yours?”

“Fuck.” Neal kisses him hard, his hand jacking Peter in a desperate rhythm that has Peter thrusting helplessly into Neal’s fist. “Call me anything you like.”

“Neal!” The orgasm hits him fast, the need in Neal’s voice pushing him over the edge too soon. Even as the pleasure shoots through him, Peter feels a wave of panic. Neal is still angry, and if he wants to humiliate Peter, this is the moment.

But Neal just pulls his hand back slowly and raises it to his mouth. Peter watches dumbly as Neal licks his fingers clean, then licks his lips. Peter leans in to kiss him, but Neal holds him off.

“How long do we have?” Neal asks.

Peter blinks at him, confused. “For what?”

Neal smiles, still angry, but there’s hunger burning behind it. “Until you have to lie about your whereabouts. Sooner or later, someone will notice my tracker hasn’t moved all day.”

Peter takes a deep breath, trying to kick his mind back into gear. “That depends. You should check my coat pocket.”

Neal tilts his head at Peter, eyes narrowing slightly. His expression shifts from angry to suspicious for a moment. That’s okay, Peter wants him to think. Then Neal grins wickedly and drops straight down, hands skimming the edges of Peter's body as he goes.

Peter takes a moment to be thankful for Neal's youth, and the fact that his knees will let him do things like that. Things which end with his mouth level with Peter's cock. Which isn't ready to take an interest again, not yet, but the image will do a lot for Peter's fantasies in the meantime, even if his intelligence suffers.

Neal's grin gets wider at the no-doubt stunned look on Peter's face before he drops his gaze to rifle quickly through the pockets of Peter's coat.

Peter knows the moment Neal finds it; the other man freezes, dipping his head to hide any expression on his face. Peter just holds his breath until Neal moves again.

Neal pulls the thick black plastic band from Peter's coat pocket, working his fingers around it carefully. He sits back on his heels, frowning, then reaches over to flip on a lamp so he can see what his fingers are telling him.

Peter watches Neal as he works; Neal is beautiful when he's fascinated by something, and even more so when he's rumpled and half-clothed, the bulge of his erection ruining the line of his pants. Peter wants to make him look like this all the time.

Neal finally looks up from the band, his face neutral. “It’s a fake tracking anklet.”

Peter nods. “It’ll fool anyone who doesn’t examine it too closely. We can move the other enough to make the data look normal. No one has to know you’ve slipped it.”

Neal cocks an eyebrow at him, his thoughts hidden. “You want me to wear this?”

Peter kneels down next to Neal, ignoring the complaints from his knees, and cups the other man's face. “I want you to stay.”

Neal tosses the fake anklet onto the lamp table without looking. “I can’t imagine what your wife is going to say about this.”

“You can ask her yourself in a few hours.” Peter grins at the way Neal's eyes widen. Neal thought he knew what Peter would do with his little ultimatum, but he's never really been able to outmaneuver Peter in the long run.

“Her cousin is out of town this month; El is borrowing his car and meeting us in the hotel parking garage at six." Peter toes off his shoes and starts to strip the rest of his clothes, tossing them behind him one by one. Neal's gaze drops to Peter's skin, his eyes glazing slightly, and Peter pushes his advantage. "The three of us can be in Montreal by lunchtime. From there, we can be on a plane to anywhere by dinner.”

Neal's eyes snap back to his, but it takes him a moment to speak. “And if I don’t want to go with you?”

Peter shrugs, playing nonchalant as best he can. “If you’re leaving New York? So are we. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life chasing after you for one night stands in fancy hotels.” Peter takes Neal's hands and kisses each one in turn, gently, before removing his cufflinks. “It’s not enough.”

Neal's breathing is ragged, but he keeps his voice steady. “I can’t imagine Elizabeth going along with this.”

“It’s her plan.” Peter slides Neal's shirt off his shoulders. Neal doesn't help, but he doesn't fight it, either. There's a flush spreading down his chest, and Peter wants to chase it with his tongue. “Neither of you fights fair; you’ll have to get used to that. God, you’re beautiful.”

Neal shakes his head, but he’s reaching for Peter at the same time. “You’ll never go through with it.”

“I don’t want to.” Peter feels the triumphant grin sweep across his face, but there's no holding it back. He has Neal, he *has* him. And even if Neal runs from New York, he won’t be running from *Peter*. “But I will.”

Neal moans, hands tugging Peter against him. Peter goes with it, pushing them over til he's lying draped over Neal there on the carpet. The wool of Neal's pants is warm against Peter's naked skin, but not as warm as Neal's hands. It's like Neal can't get enough of touching Peter, of having permission to touch Peter, and the little desperate sounds he makes against Peter's mouth make Peter want -- everything.

“Let me tie you down.” The words fall out of Peter's mouth without thought, and he wants to call them back, but they make Neal writhe against him. And Peter can't stop. He can finally say everything he’s been holding back, because he’s either won or lost already and it won’t change anything.

It feels like jumping off a cliff. “Every time I put cuffs on you, I wanted to suck you off.”

Neal moans, his eyes wide, and his hips thrust up against Peter as he draws his hands down to Peter's ass.

Peter shoves his thigh between Neal’s and starts grinding down against the other man's cock. “I want to hear you beg. I want you to know how you make me feel. I want you to know how far I’d go for you.” It would be better if Neal were naked, but Peter can't stop long enough to make that happen.

Neal wraps his free leg around Peter's and meets him thrust for thrust, his head tilting back as his spine curves. “Peter, please.”

It shows off the line of Neal's neck, that beautiful pale skin. Peter braces himself on one elbow so he can trace the shadows under Neal’s chin. “The tracker. God, it was like giving you a collar. You asked me for it, practically demanded I give it to you.” Peter wraps his hand around Neal's throat, fighting the sudden urge to squeeze. He doesn't want to hurt Neal, he doesn't -- “I thought you knew you were mine.”

But Neal bucks up into Peter's hand, his pupils blown wide. "Please. Yes, Peter, please --"

And Peter lets his hand tighten around Neal's throat. The skin reddens almost immediately, and Neal's mouth falls open breathlessly. His hips are still working against Peter's, but they're both losing the rhythm.

Peter feels like he's burning away, like he's losing every solid thing he ever believed in, and all he has left is this hunger. “I tried to be a good man for you. But you never wanted that. Did you?" He loosens his grip, and Neal sucks in a thin breath. "Did you?”

"Peter!" Neal wraps both hands around Peter's wrist, but he doesn't pull. “Peter, fuck me.”

Peter shakes his head, already tightening his grip again. He's too out of control; he knows he'd hurt Neal worse that way. He doesn't want to think about how much he'd like it. “If you try to run away from me, I’ll find you and I’ll drag you back. But not to prison.” He lets Neal breathe again, one breath in before he cuts off air again. “I’ll chain you naked to my bed. I’ll drug you if I have to. Whip you. Brand you.”

Neal's movements are wilder now, his eyes completely unfocussed. Peter has to fight to let him breathe, and it's almost as terrifying as how much he means everything he's saying. “I’ll do anything you want. But I’ll never let you go.”

Neal comes, silently, shaking, his body twisting sharply against Peter's before sagging against the carpet. Peter isn't there yet, it's too soon on the heels of the last one, and he's grateful for that. Because he doesn't want to know if he could come just from threatening to take Neal apart.

Peter eases the pressure on Neal’s throat but doesn’t pull his hand away. His heart is beating a mile a minute, from adrenaline and fear at the things he said. God help him, he meant every word. Peter has never felt so out of control in his life.

He shifts down to lie next to Neal on the carpet. The younger man immediately rolls to lie half on top of him, as if to keep Peter from running. Peter takes comfort in the fact that Neal still trusts him after all that.

After a long moment, Neal lifts his head slightly. “Was that part of Elizabeth’s plan?”

“If it was, I wish she’d told me.” Peter can hear the plaintive tone in his voice, and he expects Neal to laugh.

Instead, he tenses, and Peter automatically wraps an arm around him. “Still trying to be a good man?” Neal asks, and Peter's heart starts to race again at the darkness in his voice. Maybe it isn't trust that Neal wants out of this.

“This could break me, Neal." Peter can't tell if he's warning Neal or pleading with him. "You could.”

“Good.” Neal shifts to let the lamplight catch his expression, and Peter can see that he’s telling the truth. “If you ever push me away again, I will.”

Peter's mouth is dry, and he has to swallow before he can answer that. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”

“We have a few hours, don’t we?” Neal grins up at him, sharp and dangerous. “Make me want to.”


End file.
